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So Gordon Brown is to step down if the Lib/Con talks break down and allow a new leader to form a Lib/Lab coalition.

It has also been announced that the LIberal Democrats will hold formal talks with the Labour party.

And you’d think, from watching the hysterical newsies on BBC and SKY, and even more so from watching the hysterical party activists on twitter that the sky had fallen.

Tory activists on twitter, and retards on the news, ably aided by spinning Labour types who have suddenly emerged from the gaping silence to fill the airwaves with fear, uncertainty and doubt, think Clegg has betrayed the Conservatives and is now going off with Brown (or rather his successor) in order to form a coalition of losers.

At the same time, Labour sprogs, while wiping the – absurdly – apparently genuine tears from their eyes at the demise of their Great Leader are trumpeting that this means the formation of the much vaunted ‘rainbow coalition’.

All of this, is, of course bollocks.

The biggest clue to this is that all of a sudden, arch cunts like Alistair Campbell are suddenly on TV.

What is happening now is very simple. The Liberal Democrats have negotiated an offer with the Conservatives. They hold the balance of power. Now, Clegg has to go to Brown and tell him what that offer is, and say to him “So Gordon, this is what Dave has offered me, what about you ?”

That is all. So Keep Calm, and Cary On. Nothing untoward is afoot, whatever the sleep deprived, excitable, newsies and the labour bullshit wranglers are trying to tell you.

A future fair for all! Is the breathless and rather pathetic rallying cry from the labour drones. Repeated ad nauseum by their army of tediously unoriginal twitterers,

Unless you’re rich, obviously. Or went to Eton. Or you’re a Tory. Or you worry about immigration. Or you were once called Gideon. Or you’re Gillian Duffy. Or you support the universal right to free speech even if it’s extended to the BNP. Or you are the BNP. Or you’re a banker. Or you’re Simon Cowell. Or you read the Daily Mail. Or you’re a climate change ‘denier’.

Like this:

In my previous post I ranted on incoherently and at length about the Tribal Fuckmuppetry involved in British politics, which demands loyalty to the party and nothing else, to the exclusion of other things like rational thought.

And then, as if by magic, I came across a perfect example in the form of everyone’s favourite tory media whore and prima facie tribal fuckmuppet Iain Dale’s comment on the hillarious spectacle of a Labour PPC calling Brown “The worst prime minister ever” which received quite wide coverage this morning.

Naturally, Iain agrees that Brown is a fucking disaster as PM, but then he goes on to rather neatly illustrate my point about tribal fuckmuppets and their effect on democracy like this

Sood has blasted the Labour leader and surely now faces suspension, even though he has spokenn the truth. What I don’t understand is that if he really thinks this, why did he ever stand as a Labour candidate

It hasn’t occurred to Iain that the chap could be loyal to the ideology that the Labour party was founded to represent and finds that Brown is not, as many Labour voters have also noticed. It hasn’t occurred to him that perhaps not everyone in the Labour party agrees with Gordon on everything, which is a curious oversight, because Iain likes to write about division in the Labour party.

No, at the sight of open division in the ranks, Dale’s first instinct is that the man should be suspended and he should never have joined Labour if he disagreed with the Great Leader.

And Iain Dale is a Tory tribal fuckmuppet.

NB that as I say, Iain is aware, and writes about, divisions in all of the parties, so either his “obey the tribe” instinct kicked in very strongly and overrode his rational thought processes, or it’s OK to have bitter divisions as long as they’re behind closed doors where the plebs won’t see them, and only the tribal elders, Iains blog, the Daily Mail and the Telegraph are aware of them.

Like this:

Dearth

–noun

1.

an inadequate supply; scarcity; lack: There is a dearth of good engineers.

2.

scarcity and dearness of food; famine.

Blue Rinse And Pearls

I live in the North East, although I didn’t always. I grew up in Cheshire. Poles apart you might say. Or even ‘polls’ apart in fact. I didn’t live in the leafy poshtown ‘footballers wives’ bit of Cheshire, but I did go to school there. Indeed I used to live (just) in what is now George Osborne’s constituency and was once that of Neil Hamilton – a man I met on many occasions and who contributed greatly to my image of politics as being a hive of desperate, self interested, sleazy, grasping cunts.

Often along with the gurning fuckmuppet Winterton, he was a fixture at all sorts of fetes, fairs and charity bashes that I attended – my parents being tireless workers for charridee – as well as perpetrating several school visits – the last of which, as I recall, caused a mass exodus of pupils via a window, this being the preferable option to spending time with him.

Hamilton – and indeed Winterton – were the sort of MPs that would – as the saying goes – attend the opening of a bus shelter. They were personally well known to many of their constituents. As a whippersnapper, my impression of them was very much as stated above. Hamilton in particular practically sweats sleaze, and shaking hands with him could make you feel like you needed to take a shower. The less said about Winterton the better, quite frankly.

The point, of course, is that I was by no means alone in feeling this way. You didn’t have to spend much time around Hamilton to realise that he was – as the saying goes – a complete and utter cunt.

And yet the Tatton constituency remained – and remains – resolutely blue. barring the one protest vote for Martin Bell when Hamilton was finally documented in behaving like a desperate, self interested, sleazy, grasping cunt. The interesting thing about that vote, of course, is that Al ‘axe wound’ Campbell convinced the Lib Dems that it would be a huge laugh if both they and Labour withdrew their candidates. Crucially this left the Cheshire set with a candidate they could vote for who – while not a Conservative – was not a Labour or LibDem candidate either.

Manic Miners

Now I live in the North East. In most of the constituencies I spend time in, despite several having predominantly LibDem councils, it is a mystery to most people why the Conservatives or LibDems even bother to field candidates for general (or by-) elections.

I don’t move in such exalted circles any more, and while I have corresponded with my local MP, I have never met him or any of those from neighbouring constituency. That hardly matters, as Labour’s record of the last 13 years speaks volumes about how it regards the loyal reds of the North East. With contempt. This is not something which has gone unnoticed, either. The many mining villages ravaged by the attempts of the trade unions to violently overthrow democracy and install a ginger trot junta (or ‘Thatcher’ as they abbreviate it round here) are still, despite 13 years of a Labour government who you might reasonably have expected to do something about it, shit holes. Characterised by poverty, domestic violence, teenage parents, crime and ignorance.

And yet the North East remains – and is likely to remain – resolutely red.

Tribal Fuckmuppets

The now infamous Mrs Gillian Duffy rather neatly summed up this situation when she described how her Grandfather and Father had been ‘Labour men’. You hear it all the time from nasty smug Labour drones “labour is in my blood”, “my family has voted labour for generations”. These deluded fucktards were indoctrinated with their parent’s voting habits – at the expense of rational thought – from birth. No matter what the Labour party do – illegal wars, taxing the poor, trampling all over the long held tenets of the justice system, conniving at torture, hypocritically ignoring or weasling out of their responsibilities under the very Human Rights that they themselves are so proud of codifying into UK law, breaches of electoral law, candidates arrested for drink driving after piling their car into roundabouts, a minister convicted of driving while on his mobile – they aren’t the Tories and so can never be as bad.

This is not limited to the North East by any means. Nor, in fact, is is it limited to the Labour party. In Cheshire, people bring their kids up Tory. When I lived there the local Young Conservative group was large and active. And stocked out with people whose mummies and daddies were Conservative to the core and had indoctrinated their children to be the same. Most of them were also glassy eyed automatons, devoid of rational thought, repeating the same Tory screeds their parents and local party reps had taught them by wrote. Ad nauseum, in many cases, and in a memorable few, ad punching hard in the face by children who hadn’t been so programmed.

The Now Obligatory BNP Reference

In a remarkably similar way were racist attitudes passed from father to son, many were the playground discussions regarding why some racial group or other should be taunted that started with the phrase “My dad says all [insert racist epithet here] are [insert some kind of slur here, dirty, thieves, whatever]”. It shouldn’t be surprising really, because what all these indoctrinated attitudes amount to is a taught intolerance to some group or other, be it evil tories, ruinous socialists, or thieving gypsies.

This doesn’t account for all the tribal fuckmuppets, some people who fall heavily into this category have picked their team based on pressure from their peers, or just because they needed to pick someone to support and now they must offer unquestioning loyalty. Much in the same way as people choose to support football teams, I suppose.

A Dearth Of Democracy

The problem with this – aside from the fact that crippling your child’s or your own critical faculties in such a manner is butt clenchingly stupid – is that it leads to a situation where a large proportion of the UK electorate, despite being otherwise sensible, intelligent, compassionate and rational people will not go to the polls on Thursday and place their cross in a box based on either substance or style, nor even based on their subscription to a particular ideology , but based on tribal loyalty and an indoctrinated hatred of some other tribe.

By outsourcing some portion of their critical faculties to whatever bunch of conniving shitweasels are sporting the appropriately coloured rosette, the tribal fuckmuppets have, willingly or otherwise, conspired to keep the amount of democracy to an absolute minimum. Every five years, the 25,000 or so voters who aren’t tribal fuckmuppets get to decide which bunch of liars and thieves have the best posters. And that’s it. You can – and I have – get access to your local MP and if s/he is a good constituency MP they might even help to represent your views. Unless they conflict with those of the MPs party of course, in which case you are shit out of luck.

The conniving shitweasels, of course, know this, which is why they don’t want to change it. This is why, despite having 13 years of legislative opportunity, Labour have never reformed the electoral system. This why the Conservatives prefer the first past the post system and have pledged to keep it all costs.

The conniving shitweasels will tell you that we need ‘strong government’, which is politician speak for an administration that can ram whatever shitty legislation it wants down the country’s throat because no one can stop them. You might canvass your MP against such legislation, but it won’t matter because their party will whip them until they toe the line.

The conniving shitweasels fear a hung parliament or a slim majority because they do not like democracy at all. They know best, and they mean to have their way. Democracy would actively prevent this, because they’d have to get consent from others. This would mean reaching a consensus, like proper grown ups, and reaching a consensus is nowhere near as much fun as wielding power.

This Is All Your Fault

If you are one of those tribal fuckmuppets, if you have always voted the same way, if you have unquestioningly pledged your loyalty to one bunch of conniving shitweasels, if you do it because your dad did it, or your gran, if you are Labour for Life, or Tory forever, or a tedious tubthumper for any other party here is a message for you.

You are the enemy of democracy. Grow the fuck up. It is because of you that we are ruled, not served. It is because of you that we are subjects, not citizens. It is because of you that we have no referenda, the conniving shitweasels know they can count on your support whatever they do, so they don’t need to ask the rest of us.

It is because of you that there has been no electoral reform, it is because of you that the party system and the whip system still exist, because your unquestioning loyalty to a shower of bastards has allowed it to be so.

In the immortal words of Paul Wicker “May the lord have mercy on your souls, you ignorant snivelling fuckpigs.” Because whatever is about to happen, and it is likely to be unremittingly unpleasant, it is your fault.

In the so called spin room afterwards, all sides were claiming victory for their man, which I accept is a bit tedious. But I really did and do believe GB was head and shoulders above the other two on substance.

Maximum puke, as usual from the borg overseers. But yeah, Brown must have been high on some pretty good shit if he thought he was doing well.

Presumably the same substance that @campbellclaret is abusing. With some regularity if I’m any judge since only a complete asshat would genuinely believe that GB was anything other than his usual clunking fisted train wreck.

And also because he describes himself as a “Communicator”, but his god-awful blog looks like an angry fruit salad. With a rash. I mean fucking hell Alastair, my eyes were bleeding just looking at it, and I’m half blind.

Not In My Name

Like Gordon Brown, I am partially sighted. Like Gordon Brown, my handwriting is appalling and often indecipherable even to me. Unlike Gordon Brown, I would simply never consider hand writing professional correspondence of any kind. Period.

And so it was with considerable surprise that I emerged blinking into the pale winter light yesterday to discover ‘Lettergate’ romping all over the news agenda.

Unlike many other people, my surprise stems not from the fact that this has become a controversy but from the fact that anyone sane could step up to defend Gordon Brown for what I believe to be an inexcusable insult to the grieving mother of a fallen soldier.

I can think of no piece of correspondence that one should take more seriously than a letter of condolence, and that goes in spades if you happen to be the Prime Minister of the government who sent the deceased to fight and die. And it goes in the kind of spades one finds attached to the front of a JCB if your government is widely regarded as being further culpable for that death due to an inability to properly equip your combat troops.

So I was astonished to discover that our prime minister had sent such a letter that was practically illegible and appeared to contain 25 spelling errors, including the family name of the deceased soldier.

What happened next, of course, was not a surprise at all. What happened next was the PC by proxy brigade crawled out of their foetid holes and began a mass whine, the gist of which was that we should let him off because he has a disability. That mocking him for this was picking on him, bullying him for his disability. Bullshit.

Bum Gravy

A Downing Street spokesmen : “The suggestion that he would have or does write these letters in a way that is anything other than with the dignity of the office he holds is completely inappropriate.”

A typically vexing piece of Newspeak, that. Let’s imagine for a moment that I don’t give a flying simian sex act for what some Borg drone thinks is ‘appropriate’, and unpick the tastier bits.

What does it suggest about the ‘dignity’ of the office of the Prime Minister that its holder and his small army of staff would allow such a missive to hit the mailbag without anyone having checked it for errors or legibility ? That no one, at any point, applied even the most basic standard of proofreading that an average piece of business correspondence would be subject to ?

What does it suggest about the ‘dignity’ of the office that its holder would believe that a letter which looks like it was written by a two year old ADHD sufferer is in any way an acceptable way to pass on the condolences of that office ?

The same spokesman points out that Brown spends “a great deal of time” writing these letters. Maybe so. But it doesn’t come across that way. It certainly didn’t to Jacqui Janes who called the letter a

“hastily scrawled insult”

Oh, The Poor Dear

But we should forgive him, right ? Because he’s got a disability innit ? It’s against his human rights or something. Fuck off. Gordon knows his writing is practically illegible, everyone in his office knows it. No one even bothered to proof read it. You can’t hide that behind a shield of PC outrage.

Every single piece of written correspondence I ever send – aside from greetings cards and post cards – is word processed, spell checked, and proof read to within an inch of its life to prevent me from sending out stuff that makes me look like a spaz. If I were to hand write something important, I would give it to a sighted person to make sure they could read it. Then I would probably reconsider and type it.

“Ah, but” say the apologists, “then you’d be complaining that it wasn’t personal, that Gordon was just mass producing these letters”.

“Fuck off, apologists” I would reply, pointing out that were someone to attempt to make political capital out of such an accusation, it would be exceedingly easily refuted by noting that because Gordon knows his writing is difficult to read, and because he knows that such letters are so very important, and because he takes them so seriously he has taken the time to make sure that his heartfelt words are legible. That each letter is unique to some extent is, of course, easily verifiable by collecting a few together and comparing them. Easy peasy, see ?

Why Is This Even News ?

“Well, look ” continue the apologists, “all that may be true, but hey, it was one letter, surely there are more important things to worry about”, this being the second plank of their now tiresomely familiar “lets just move on” strategy.

But let’s not move on, let’s dwell a while and continue to pick the scab. This is news, and important news. It is important because of what it says about the office of the Prime Minister. Would that it were not so, but in our particular political structure, this is the most important office in the land. It is the nexus of our national decision making process.

Surely then, we should scrutinise the holder. This incident, like so many others, demonstrates that the holder is a man utterly incapable of admitting his own failings, to the extent that he even denies having made the spelling mistakes. A man so arrogant that despite knowing his writing is practically unreadable does not arrange for his correspondence to be proof read. A man so bad at political management that he hasn’t been able to hire anyone who can (or who dares to) back stop him.

Collectively, the Downing Street team have demonstrated a level of political awareness more appropriate to a solipsist in a coma. This was predictable, preventable, and should have been easily managed when it blew up in Brown’s face.

And as a final insult, this is a man, and a team, who having placed themselves in a position of having such an appalling lack of judgement exposed, rather than simply fess up and apologise for the whole thing unreservedly, are so incapable of admitting their culpability that they are – quietly and subtly – about to play the disability card.

And that is the card that you save for the very last hand.

Gordon Is A Moron

None of this, make no mistake, has come about because Gordon has a disability. This has come about because Gordon is massive twat. All the PC by proxy idiots who were out in force yesterday saying “oh go on, leave him alone, he can’t help it” are aiding and abetting him in remaining a massive twat.

Sending a letter to a grieving mother and spelling her son’s name wrong is simply indefensible. Insisting that it is excused by a disability is insulting to those of us who share that disability and recognise this as nothing more than an egregious error of judgement.

It has long been mooted that the Home Office is something of a poisoned chalice, and the last twelve years have done nothing to dispel this impression with a succession of frothing at the mouth nutters being broken upon it’s wheel.

Latest corpse on the pile is due to be the career of current Home Sec Alan Johnson. The interview linked below appears to be – so far – the only TV face time on the issue that Johnson has given, even News24 are rolling the Sky footage, and according to Krishnan Guru-Murthy of C4 news fame

krishgm : Home Office still refusing to come on C4 News about drugs policy, for third day in a row.

I did think the reason Gordon gave Alan the Home Secretary job was to basically destroy his popularity forever.1:28 PM Oct 31st from Tweetie

In which case, job done.

Johnson does neither himself or his office (or indeed his party) any favours by acting like this, he clearly isn’t handling this well at all, and as the day continues I imagine he will continue to be made to look petty and stupid.

And there was once a rumour that this man would try and knock Gordon off the top spot ? Dream on, Alan.